


What Happens In Kaon

by eiseedoesit, Kemmasandi



Series: Coming Clean [3]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and stuff, Mechpreg, Other, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, crack that grew a heart, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit/pseuds/eiseedoesit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orion makes a world-shattering discovery. Luckily, he has Megatronus there to help pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens In Kaon

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** What Happens In Kaon  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Universe:** TF:Prime [AU where the war never happened]  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Megatronus/Orion Pax  
>  **Warnings:** Smut - sticky/sparksex. Mechpreg, domestic fluff, crack that grew a heart halfway through.
> 
> Eiseedoesit expressed a wish to see Orion standing over a washbasin crying over a positive pregnancy test. Kem obliged. It snowballed, as things have a tendency to do when I’m involved – and this is what resulted. 
> 
> We both took turns writing it in PMs over in FFnet, and though I had a go at smoothing out the transitions you might notice parts which escaped me. The universe is mostly Eisee's brainchild, in which things went wonderfully, gloriously right for Megs, Orion, and Cybertron alike. That's probably all you need to know; we didn't go into much greater detail than that.

***

Orion glared down into the murky depths of the waste bin, his mouth full of the sour tang of half-processed energon.

Out in the main room, he could hear Megatronus pottering around, doing… something that involved a lot of clattering. The gladiator was alone; unusually for this stage of the orn, their little apartment wasn't playing host to any guests. In his current state, it was a relief.

He'd been purging his tanks on and off for a couple of orns now. It had come on suddenly, during one of Megatronus' matches, and had outlasted any of the minor viruses Orion had had in the past. He still wasn't sure what was causing it – his code was fine, his systems all reported back at peak efficiency [aside from those dealing with mineral absorption, but, looking at the amount of regurgitated energon in the waste bin, that was hardly a surprise], and he hadn't so much as touched the high grade on the free gladiators' latest pub crawl.

Orion leaned into the waste bin again and retched at the thought of high grade, tanks lurching, his intakes convulsing painfully. There wasn't much energon left in him anymore, but he didn't have the willpower to go get himself another cube. He knew he _had_ to keep drinking it, even though he could hardly keep any of it down – if he didn't, his engines would run dry, and he didn't need the lurid posters that lined every medic's practice he'd seen in his entire life to tell him why that was a bad idea, thankyouverymuch. 

There was one potential cause left. Orion raised his glare to the cupboard on the other side of the washrack, and forced himself to his pedes.

Inside the cupboard, hidden behind a large bottle of Orion's favourite polish, were several kindle kits. They were unimpressive little things – simple devices programmed for a single use only, which plugged into a mech's abdominal mesh and scanned for the telltale electrical activity which was often the first sign of an advancing gestation.

Last time he'd gone for a checkup at Ratchet's clinic in Iacon, the old medic had taken one look at the swirls of red plasma amongst the blue of his spark, and pressed them into his servos. "Congratulations on a well-forged bond," he'd said. "You may want these." 

Orion groaned, fighting down another wave of nausea, and picked up one of the kits. Apprehension reared its ugly head alongside the physical misery worrying at his processor. It was probably nothing, he'd drop into much-needed recharge tonight with Megatronus' arms around him, plasma transfer settling in his spark, and wake up in the morning with the sickness just a memory—

But what if he didn't? 

Glyphs on the side of the kit informed him that a negative result would produce silence, an inconclusive result one beep, and a positive result two beeps. Simple enough.

He activated the device, and before he could change his mind, plugged it onto the medical port low on his side.

It seemed to take an age to scan. Orion stared at the ceiling, lips pressed tight together, and tried not to think of anything at all.  
Most mechs learned early in life the common causes of minor bugs, and nearly everyone made sure to figure it out before they struck out on their own – as much to save on medics’ fees as for their own peace of mind. Orion was no different – but for once in his life he hoped to Primus that his knowledge was leading him to the wrong conclusion.

The kit beeped. Twice.

"Oh, Primus," Orion whispered, ripping the kit from his side and staring down at it. "That can't be right."

Blinking through a nervous daze, he grabbed another kit and fumbled to get the packaging off as quickly as possible, connecting it to his port and waiting. This one didn't take nearly so long – two beeps split the attentive silence in the washroom.

The third kit gave him a one-beep result – inconclusive – but the fourth was again positive.

Orion reached for the fifth and final kit, and paused with his servo hovering just above it. _Who am I kidding?_ he thought.

His intakes drew heavy breaths, and he found himself bracing his servos against the walls, his helm bowed down as a jolt of nausea swept over him. Retching up another mouthful of energon, he coughed out the remains of the sour substance. Weak tremors ran through his frame, the sound of his systems changing from a ragged hum to sobs. 

_No. Not now. Not yet_ , he thought frantically, trying without success to regulate the distressed wrenching of his intake fans. _It's too soon._

Orion staggered to the washracks, turning it on full blast to try to cover the thin wail bleeding through his vocaliser. The cold solvent washed over him, but it wasn’t enough. He gritted his denta, tears welling up hot against his optics. 

A million fears raced through his processors. Megatronus— what would he think? He knew his mate wanted sparklings, deep down in his processor and despite his better judgement – but certainly not at this point. They were both still newly bonded. Megatronus had only recently begun to make progress in his political strides. 

A sparkling would change all that. Take his time and attention away from his goals. 

What if... Oh, _Primus_ , what if the gladiator wished to terminate it? 

And his grandsire. Orion imagined the look of sparkbreak, disappointment on the older mech's faceplates. He had kept his bond with Megatronus a secret, hoping out of a shameful sense of his own inadequacy to avoid the truth for as long as he possibly could. But now, with this sparkling, the masquerade would be blown wide open. Now he would not only have to tell his grandsire that he’d bonded with a gladiator, one of the brutes so derided in high Iacon society, but that he was now carrying that same gladiator's child. 

Orion shuttered his optics and ground his knuckles against them, unaware as the locks to the washroom gave way. 

"Orion?"

He froze, optics snapping wide open, staring through the cracks between his fingers. Megatronus was at the doorway, optics—for the moment civilian-blue—fixed on him. Orion's spark sank as he noticed the discarded kindle kits in his mate's servos, his hold on them tight and crushing. 

"Megatronus—" Orion sobbed, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
Megatronus' expression did not change. His optics flickered from Orion to the kindle kits and back, before he seemed to reach a decision and strode into the room. 

Choking back sobs, Orion sank to the washrack floor, runnels of cold solvent flowing down his plating, pooling around his aft. He watched his mate dump the kindle kits in the solid-waste bin, and even that triggered a fresh bout of gasping cries. Everything was too much – he offlined his optics and let himself cry.

He felt Megatronus' footsteps through the floor, drawing close and then, unexpectedly, kneeling behind him. Clawed servos wrapped around his waist, palms gently pressing against his abdomen.  
He flinched before he could catch himself. Megatronus paused.

"I assume they were positive," the gladiator murmured, deep voice ghosting over his audials. Orion's intakes hitched; he nodded, unable to vocalise the affirmative.

There was a short silence. Megatronus pulled Orion back against his chassis and shifted his engine down a notch, the comforting rumble spreading through Orion's frame.

"You are carrying my child." 

Again Orion nodded.

Megatronus' clawed servos stroked gently over his abdominal plating, smooth sweeps from central diaphragmic plate to pelvic girdle. "My little mate, we have been bonded less than three lunar cycles. That is… quite something." 

Fear gripped Orion's spark – directed inwards and outwards, at himself, Megatronus, and every weight the world had seen fit to rest on their shoulders. "I'm sorry," he gasped, a short miserable wail slipping out on the tail of the sentence. "I don't know how it happened."

"The usual way, I would presume," Megatronus said dryly. At any other time Orion would have laughed at his mate's rare humor showing through, but now the words simply echoed dully through his processor, lead-weighted. 

"It's too soon," he said, shaking his helm. Memories flashied through his HUD of every time the gladiator had taken him since that one amazing day they'd bonded, each and every merge. Which one had it been? "We're not ready – _I'm_ not ready, and you've only just started getting somewhere with the higher politicians, a sparkling would be too much on top of that, and—"

A strong grey servo covered his mouth, cutting off the stream of babble queueing up in his vocaliser. "Hush, Orion," Megatronus said, gathering him into his lap. "It's not like you to be so despairing. We have already achieved what some might call the impossible. A high-caste mech bonding with the lowest of the low, after all, is not something one does every day."

"You are not low," Orion growled, dark anger snapping into his spark. He felt volatile, his temper fragile. A symptom of carrying, or so he’d been told. "You are worth a dozen of any high-caste mechs, and I would still choose you even if you were so rusted and poor you were falling apart."

"Even for the sire of your child?" Megatronus rumbled, his servo stilling over Orion's lower abdomen – over his gestation hardware.

Orion dragged in a desperate breath, tears welling up in his optics again. "I would."

"Then we will manage with me as I am," Megatronus murmured, brushing his lips against the top of Orion's helm. "Everything else is a secondary concern, and we will deal with it as it comes."

It should have been a relief – a joy, even. 

Instead, it only made Orion cry harder.  
"No," The gladiator brought a claw up, carefully caressing his mate's faceplates, "There is no need to cry."

Orion turned his helm, met Megatronus’ gaze. Confidence swirled in the gladiator’s field, intense and self-assured. Perhaps, if Orion could mimic such confidence…  
He offered his mate a weak smile. “I know.”

Megatronus grinned down at him, then swooped and kissed him, suddenly, passionately. Orion responded with equal fervor, twisting to loop his arms around Megatronus’ neck.

"You –you are so good to me," he managed, kisses to his neck and wickedly precise touches to all the really sensitive places on his frame rendering him nearly incapable of coherent thought. Megatronus was a master of distraction, he truly was. No wonder he made such a good politician. 

"You are my lover, mate, and now—" Megatronus kissed him hard, whispering into Orion's parted lips, "the carrier of my sparklings. Of course I am good to you."

"I feared your anger," Orion said honestly, breaking the momentum. His arms slid down around Megatronus' shoulders, his optics staring up to capture his mate's gaze. "I did not expect such quick acceptance—"  
"And I did not expect such quick results," the gladiator chuckled, the infrasonic subfrequency of his engine making the sound reverberate through his massive chassis. "But then again it should come as no surprise."

"Why? Because you can't keep your servos off me?" Orion smiled, easing into his mate's gentle embrace. The memory of their coupling sent a pleasant, deep shudder down his spine. He caressed the gladiator's face, marveling at how those scars that told of violence and hatred could belong to the same one who loved him so carefully and passionately in private.

"Well, that's one very good reason," Megatronus said, leaning into Orion's touch. "But perhaps even more importantly... you."

"Me?" Orion asked, tilting his helm to the side, optic ridges raised. "What do you mean by that?"

"All I mean is that I'm not surprised that you've kindled so early into our bond. You were made to be a carrier."

Megatronus drew Orion to sit on his lap. The archivist complied, sighing as his mate pressed a gentle kiss to his helm.

"And how," he whispered, "did you ever come to that conclusion?"

"Your spark," Megatronus said, and Orion felt him grin against the top of his helm. "So large and vibrant, so welcoming, so extremely generative. Your persona, so kind and giving, soft and nurturing yet capable of steel when you need it. You fight to defend your family – all of it." He chuckled, and Orion smiled back up at him, blinking away the last of his tears. The sudden despair had gone as quickly as it had come.

"From a more practical viewpoint, your frame is quite well-suited to carrying a sparkling." Megatronus' servos swept down his chassis from windshield to pelvic frame, lingering perhaps a little long to be completely innocent over the gaps where his thighs met his hips. "You do not carry overmuch armament, unlike myself, and in the case of kindling a rather large frame type, there is enough extra room - and more importantly, enough give in your plating - to accommodate even a shuttle-framed sparkling."

Orion frowned lopsidedly down at Megatronus' servos, drifting slowly southwards again. "You speak as if you have experience in the field."

Megatronus raised an optic ridge at Orion's dubious expression, and huffed an exvent through his ventral fans, laying his servos firmly on Orion's thighs. Evidently he'd decided to stop playing around. "Not personally, no. However, I am far older than you, Orion, and I have seen and learned many things. While I confess I never expected to experience the circumstances in which to put such knowledge to use, I have learned not to refuse the advancement of my knowledge – in any subject, not merely those which I expect to use."

"I see," Orion said.

Megatronus gazed down at him, a thoughtful gleam in his optics. He raised a gentle servo to Orion's face and swept the back of a clawed digit down Orion's cheek, metal collecting the wetness of Orion's tears. 

"I do not like the look of tears on your face," he rumbled, his voice dropping a flirtatious octave. "I have half a mind to put a more... beautiful expression on it."

"Such as?" Orion prompted. Oh, if this was going where he thought it was, Megatronus could try for whatever expression he liked. Orion had a mind to make him work for it, wonderful-amazing-beloved bondmate though he was. Even though it was what had landed him in this situation in the first place, he suddenly couldn't think of any better idea than letting the gladiator push him down and have his wicked way with him, right here in the washrack cubicle.

Hm. That was another symptom of a new gestational cycle – increased interface drive. 

"Well," Megatronus replied, smirking fit to burst, "I believe I am hoping to have you screaming in overload inside the next two breems."

"Quicker than that, I hope." Orion shifted, arranging his legs so that he knelt over Megatronus' thick grey thighs, his legs forced wide by his mate's sheer size. A mischievous thought flitted across his processor queue, and he laid his palms on Megatronus' abdominal plating, digging his fingertips underneath the thick gladiatorial armor to stroke at hidden seams. "Please, tell me more. I believe I could do with learning some of these gems of sparkling knowledge you have picked up over the vorns."

"Orion Pax, you are the only mech to ever cheek me and get away with it," Megatronus rumbled. He rested his servos on Orion's thighs, thumbs stroking inwards and down, tracing arousal through Orion's neural net. "Very well then. The care and handling of carriers both new and advanced is an inexact science. No two mechs go through the same cycle, so predicting how it will take any mech is a lesson in futility. However, there are some constants—"

He slid his servos around the curve of Orion's aft and _lifted_ him, high enough that they could kiss without Megatronus having to lean down awkwardly far in order to reach Orion's lips. And kiss Orion he did, his scarred lips meeting Orion's in a forceful, possessive crush. Orion's fans spun up to a higher gear, sucking in cool Kaon air. Megatronus' glossa teased along his bottom lip; he opened his mouth to reciprocate, and their glossae met in a wet, thrilling glide, Megatronus claiming Orion's mouth most thoroughly.

"Such as," the gladiator continued when they broke apart, "emotional stress triggering protocols which drive the carrier to seek out his mate for physical reassurance and support."

"Thus the high interface drive," Orion surmised, and gave him a shy smile. "Do continue."

Megatronus raised a quizzical optic ridge at him. "As you command, my little mate." 

He glanced away toward the washrack wall for a moment, a thoughtful slant to his optics. "The first outward signs that one might be gestating are an increased spark charge and raised synchronization rate, giving the carrier a vibrant, fertile field wavelength. This is a subtle enough change that most do not outwardly notice it; however, it triggers in the carrier's mate the dormant siring protocols, which include a heightened protective urge and a related physical desire for his carrying partner. This is rooted in the base coding of every mech – it derives from the need of a growing sparkling for the regulative influence of its sire-spark, and of its protoform for the wet material and minerals carried by the sire's transfluid."

Orion imagined what it would feel like for his reproductive chamber to be full of Megatronus' transfluid. He gave a delighted shudder and rocked forward, leaning his weight on Megatronus' broad shoulders. 

"I want your transfluid in me," he breathed, a shadowy delight drifting out from his spark at the expression of unbridled desire the words painted over Megatronus' stern features. "Let's listen to our coding for once. I want you to fill me up completely—don't hold back."

"Primus," Megatronus swore, metal sliding against metal as his array panel slid back. "That expression may be the best yet."

Orion retracted his own panel, moaning as the cold air swept over his external components. He was wet enough that the excess was starting to dribble down his inner thighs, a visible testament to the arousing power of a simple kiss. His valve clenched down on thin air, a rush of lubricant inside him helping the caliper rings slide smoothly open in anticipation.

Rather than lowering him down onto his spike, Megatronus gently set Orion down on the washrack floor, pushing at his chest until he leant back on his elbows, then arranging his legs so that they draped over Megatronus' thighs, baring his array for the world to see.

The gladiator gazed down at him, his field alight with need. "Orion, we will deal with this as we have done with every other challenge life has thrown our way. I will not allow something which should be a joy to defeat us. You have my word that I will do everything within my power to assist you, whether it be running simple errands for you or fragging you into the floor whenever your coding or spark demands it."

"Primus," Orion whispered, shuttering his optics and nodding. "Thank you, Megatronus. I love you so much."

A gentle servo stroked down his main thoracic seam. "I know. I can feel it through your spark."

On that note, Megatronus surged forward, his spike nosing forward – carefully, with the ease born of much practice – in past the entrance of Orion's valve. Metalmesh parted around him, calipers stretched wide by his girth. Orion cried out with unrestrained pleasure, his field crackling with incandescent lust, enough to match the intent force of his mate's.

There was something so, so _right_ about having Megatronus inside him, something that went down past base carrier protocol or even the need of his spark, down into what made Orion who he was. He reveled in it, in being able to take his lover into his own body and devote his entire being to Megatronus' pleasure. Kaonite culture saw being penetrated as submissive, even shameful – paradoxically, for Orion it gave him spiritual power, based around giving rather than taking. 

And Megatronus, he would give himself to for as long as his spark continued to burn.  
Megatronus slid into him gently, mindful of Orion's lesser size. Calipers fluttered, struggling to slide open enough to take his girth, straining with every thick ridge that slipped in past the taut valve rim. 

Orion groaned, his helm thunking back against the washrack floor. The soft drizzle of the cold solvent did nothing to combat the blissful heat suffusing every part of his frame, the wild white-hot burn where he and the gladiator met at the apex of his thighs. Wisps of steam drifted past Megatronus' face, lit up by the blaze of his optics. 

There was silence but for the roaring of their fans, yet it felt right. Comfortable.

He pushed a burst of fierce love through their bond, wanting Megatronus to know exactly what he made Orion feel – and arched, pushing his hips up into the gentle roll of hips it earnt him. Megatronus was in him, _inside him_ , his frame stretched gloriously wide around that core of tight heat and pressure, the feeling of restrained power in Megatronus' frame as he wrapped his legs around the gladiator's hips intoxicating.

One last little push forward. The sensor-rich mesh folds around Orion's entrance fired wildly as Megatronus' spike housing fetched up against him, their pelvic arrays pressed flush together. Orion tried to grind against him, little squirming movements which were the utmost he could muster, but Megatronus caught his hip fairings and pinned him to the washrack floor.

"I want all of you," the gladiator rumbled, looming over Orion like a gathering thunderhead, all bright steel and electric power. "All of you. Do you understand, my little mate?" His lips brushed against Orion's audials, the weight of his sheer presence crushing Orion down against the hard ground. Solvent poured down, pooling around the point where their frames were joined. 

"I do," Orion breathed, bringing his servos up to caress the transformation seams at his mate's collar. "You have me."

Megatronus gazed down at him, his optics banked, the smoky blue of satisfied desire. The gladiator shifted, raising Orion's aft with one servo, and pressing the other to his abdominal plating. Alone, from thumb to clawtip it nearly spanned the breadth of Orion's waist.

There was something hot and sparking in his EM field, alkaline wonder cycling back and forth through the wavelength. Orion returned his gaze, sliding his own servos down Megatronus' arm, laying them on the back of the gladiator's massive hand.

"You and I together, we made this." Megatronus’ voice gave away nothing of the turmoil of his field. "A nameless gladiator and a naïve little archivist; yet together, we made life."

Orion's vocaliser stalled. He nodded, clenching his servos against Megatronus' much bigger hand. 

When Megatronus next spoke, he sounded wry, even resigned. "I have never made life before, Orion. The most I have done is destroy it."

"Yes," Orion managed as his mate pulled him up into a sitting position without ever pulling out of him. The scrape of metal, his inner thighs against the outside of Megatronus' hips, was wonderful, the movement drawing his attention once again to the spike in his valve. The change in position was a blessing – he arched backwards, crying out as it brought him down further onto Megatronus' spike than had seemed possible. His chestplates cracked open, baring his spark – his whole world – to the one mech he'd ever felt worthy of it.

Smiling, Megatronus traced a clawtip around the tessellated edge of his spark chamber, a low rumble thrumming though his frame as the touch made Orion arch back with a desperate cry. His valve clamped down, lubricant dribbling down their thighs.

A servo cupped his aft, lifting him up. Orion fell forward, his forehelm resting against Megatronus' thick chassis armor, his optics wide. He saw Megatronus' spike slip out of him inch by silver-ribbed inch, gasped raggedly with every ridge that emerged glistening with his lubricant. Gentle claws teased his valve rim where it was still stretched around Megatronus' girth, skittering knife-edge pleasure rocketing through his systems. 

Armor clicked and split apart, bathing his face in warlike red light. Megatronus brought him back down onto his spike in one smooth stroke, and Orion arched and keened, stretching himself up to match his mate. 

The gladiator brought their chests together, and the world shattered into panes of falling light, the dark of the universe peeking through behind them. Orion was conscious of screaming as ecstasy so deep it hurt tore away his sense of self and threw him naked into the ocean that was Megatronus, stormy heights of metal embracing him, guarding him, holding him up to the light. 

And there in the light was a tiny point of life, shapeless and frameless as of yet, fragile and more precious than all the rare metals in the world. Orion scooped it up in hands made of blue starfire, cradling it to his spark and sobbing with the sheer force of the love crashing through him.

 _Mine,_ he chanted wordlessly, curling up around the tiny newspark, feeding it his adoration, his wonder and strength, _my child, my child._

Something soft and strong, woven steel, wrapped around him, another protective barrier between his offspring and the storm outside. Megatronus' presence swept the sky away, placing Orion in the space between stars, still and silent. Orion spread his arms and became a nebula, reaching across lightyears for his mate. They came together around their child, awe and love and an absolute faith that this was _right_ reshaping the universe.

Orion came out of overload with Megatronus' name on his lips. He let it go with a scream, flinging his arms around Megatronus' shoulders and wailing into his chest, too overcome to even lift himself off Megatronus' spike. His mate held him close, wordless assurance that whatever Orion needed, he would be there for him. Giant servos pushed his chest plates closed, engine turning over in a comforting rumble.

When he at last stopped sobbing, it was out of pure exhaustion. Megatronus tilted his helm up and kissed away the tears with infinite gentleness.  
"Merging around a newspark is said to be one of the most intense and emotionally draining experiences a mech can live through. Having felt it, even if only through the role of a sire, I can say with certainty that the rumors do not do it justice," the gladiator said, his vocaliser skipping a beat midway through the sentence.

Orion managed a hesitant mumble in reply. "No words could."

Megatronus nodded slowly. He slipped his claws around the backs of Orion's thighs and lifted him up, depressurizing spike slipping free of Orion's spent valve. Orion felt it as a distant slide, metal fullness retreating, leaving him empty and aching. The intensity of the overload had burned out almost half his sensor nodes. His internal calipers settled grudgingly, cycling closed with a gentle, sweet ache.

He let himself collapse down on Megatronus' broad chest, venting deep pulls of air through his overheated chassis. His spark whirled, and he could almost feel the little point of individual light that was the newspark, nesting securely within him. 

_Oh, Primus,_ he thought, shuttering his optics and pressing his cheek to Megatronus' plating as if he could ground himself better that way. 

This was it, this was _real_ \- he was going to be a parent. Kindle kits were less than 85% accurate, but a spark merge never lied. He'd felt the tiny life, held it in his spark. There was no room left in him for doubt.

Megatronus' words came floating back through his train of thought unbidden - _we will deal with this as we have done with every other challenge life has thrown our way._

 _Noisily_ , Orion thought, and cracked a smile. _Head on, without much care for whatever stands in our way._

He'd take a page out of Megatronus' book, he decided. The approach obviously worked.

***


End file.
